Superwholock Adventures
by NavyBlueYouCallMeSexy
Summary: Lestrade is having a difficult day, the Winchesters discover new people and the Doctor loses his psychic paper.
1. FEDs

"Which department?" Greg asked, barely looking up from his paperwork. Stood just behind his shoulder was Sherlock, monitoring the room as usual, and in the corner, Watson, monitoring Sherlock.

The pretty boys in front of him were American, mid-thirties and looked like they gave up a modelling career to become policemen with high cheekbones, pouty lips and eyelashes that would make a drag queen jealous.

The shorter of the pair confidently flipped open a Federal Bureau of Investigation badge and with a brighter than white smile, said "FEDs." It wasn't really the answer he was after, but before Lestrade could comment, Sherlock barked a laugh.

"I knew there was something off about you boys!" He exclaimed, walking into the centre of the room, "I mean besides the model quality. Where is he?"

Sighing, Greg put his head in his hands. The men looked at each other, confused. Stuttering, the taller one said "Excuse me? We're here on official business from the head office, Mr Lestrade, is there somewhere more private.."

"Oh shut up." Sherlock muttered, pulling the Feds badge from the officer's hand.

"Hey!-"

"Sherlock." John quickly reprimanded from the corner.

"I'm really sorry gentlemen, he's... he's not..." Greg tried to apologise.

Sherlock turned to face John shaking the badge, gesturing towards the officers. "They're lying through their teeth, surely you could tell Watson. Look at the tan, the shoes- the hands." John just nodded, keeping his opinions to himself.

Greg looked at the FEDs more closely; so they had a tan? They probably get paid enough for fantastic hot holidays. Their shoes were standard dress shoes and both men had their hands behind their back. He trusted Sherlock, even considered him a friend, but God was he annoying. "Listen Holmes you can't just go around accusing Feds of lying! That's not okay." Greg shouted, standing, hands against the desk.

Sherlock hung his head, exasperated, before swinging it up dramatically towards Greg. "The man on the right here is somewhat passable as an agent to the ordinary veiw; sharp pressed suit, intellegent eye, and quick response. However his haircut is far from regulation," The taller man nervously tucked his hair behind his ears, "-and the muscles bulging from underneath that jacket were not forged in a gym. On the left here we have a man in a suit that has been in the boot of an old car for some miles and has traces of oil on his neck." The man on the left smiled awkwardly and reached up to his neck as the taller man looked at him with bewiderment. "Both men have the complexion of one with an outdoor job, their shoes are years old, polished multiple times to look new and most compellingly," Sherlock paused for a moment, relishing the attention before lifting the shorter man's hand, palm towards Lestrade and John. "Scars covering the skin, prominently from the meat of the thumb to the wrist. Typical of satanic rituals and such."

"Jesus." Greg gasped as his eyebrows hit his hairline.

The fake Fed snatched his hand back, laughing nervously, "You aren't really going to listen to this guy, right? I mean what-"

Turning his back to Greg, Sherlock's face hardened. "Shut. Up." Nobody questioned him this time. "Where is he? Where did you get this paper?" He asked, looking up at the smaller man who was still considerably taller than Sherlock.

He flushed red "At the academy. .?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Fine. A blonde chick, British. She's the one who told us to check out this case, said that paper thing is like a free pass." He admitted, his accent becoming more sloppy.

"Must be his latest companion.. he has a thing for 'chicks'." He said to himself, "and this 'paper thing' is psychic paper. Luckily one of us was given basic psychic training." Bragging, as usual.

"That explains a lot." Greg mumbled, but Sherlock didn't hear him. Or more likely, ignored him.

"Excuse me, who are you talking about?" John asked, more than a little confused.

Sherlock spun to face John, gripping his shoulders. "Its him." Sherlock grinned, "The Doctor is back."

And he ran out of the room, all but clicking his heels as John stumbled after him. "Who?!" John yelled down the hall, but the only answer to be heard from Lestrades office was Sherlock's roaring laughter.

"So.." The short American said after a moment of silence, "Dean and Sam Winchester," he smiled sheepishly, pointing a thumb at himself and the taller man. "No hard feelings?"

Lestrades sank down into his chair and let his head hit the desk.


	2. Winchesters

"It was real nice of the Lestrade dude to let us leave, 'parently they don't care about people impersonating Feds in England." Dean said, shoving his shoes on top of the suit in the boot of the impala. "We should probably buy some new shoes though, get you a haircut too." He grinned cheekily at Sam.

"What, and get you a bath?" Sam countered as Dean selfconsiously rubbed his neck, frowning. "I don't think we need to worry too much," he said as he climbed into the car, "That guy Holmes seemed pretty... Uh.. Unusual. No one else noticed anything wrong."

Dean made a sound of agreement, nodding. "Still," he said inspecting his scarred hands, "should get Cas to fix these up. Don't want random people thinking we're Satanists, we're already serial killers." Dean laughed at his own joke.

Sam just rolled his eyes as the usual flutter of wings indicated Castiel had joined them in the back seat.

"Fix what up? Are you hurt Dean?" Castiel asked, leaning through the front seats and scanning Dean for injuries.

"Nah I'm alright," he smiled softly. Sam wondered if Dean had prayed to Castiel or the sneaky little angel had been listening to their conversations again, either way, they both needed to be a hundred times less obvious. "Just this clever guy in the police station, blew our cover because of the scars-"

"I'm okay too by the way. Not hurt, I'm okay, if anyone cares." Sam interrupted, looking out the window.

Castiel stared at him blankly and Dean raised an eyebrow before continuing, "-just wondered if you could mojo them off."

Ignoring Sam's remark, Castiel smiled and agreed to wipe their hands of any lines. "Who was the 'clever guy' that realised you weren't agents?" He asked, curious.

"He was a detective but he didnt really seem to be an officer. Sherman or something. " Dean explained.

Castiels didnt comment. Lifting Deans hands, palms up, he held them gently as his grace mended the hands in a glow of blue light. The light seeped back into Castiel and they stayed still. Holding hands.

Sam coughed and Dean jumped, letting go of Castiel, who was still unmoving. "Human contact Cas; no longer than five Mississippi's." Dean mumbled, looking down and inspecting his soft, callouse and mark free hands.

Sam held his own hands out and Castiel quietly waved a hand over him, the blue light glowing from his palms. He seemed gloomy and it was over quickly, "Thank you," Sam said inspecting his new hands, "We should get back to the motel."

"Premier Inn y'mean," laughed Dean.

"Why are we in England?" Asked Castiel, looking about as if just now noticing his location, "I thought you couldn't fly due to an irrational phobia of air transportation" He directed at Dean.

Deans face turned pink "It's not irrational! Planes crash all the- all the time! The rate- I just prefer to-"

"Yeah Dean hates flying." Sam stated as Dean attempted to defend himself, "But this time and space travelling girl told us there was something going on in London, demon omens. She had to run so we didn't get any details but she said we probably wanted to check it out."

Cas tilted his head, eyebrows scrunching. "Time and space travelling? Was she a servant of the Lord?"

"Nope. We tested her, everything. She was just plain ol' human. Said she was from London and that she had a not-so-human friend who travelled with her, so maybe her friend is the angelic one."

"Rogue perhaps." Castiel pondered, "I'll look into it." Sam and Dean just shrugged at each other and set off towards the hotel.

Back at the motel the guys were researching. Well, Sam was, Dean was currently scrolling through his texts. Undoubtedly from Castiel.

"Whoa." Sam exclaimed from behind his laptop screen, "This Holmes guy is a big hit here. That guy Watson, John Watson, he made this site about all the mysteries they've solved together, murder cases they've closed. Turns out he's a consulting detective."

"Nice," Dean nodded, putting his phone down, "but whats a consulting detective?"

Sam shrugged, "He helps the police when they're out of their depth apparently. But Dean you're missing the point, this guy could be really useful."

Deans phone rang, Bon Jovi filling the room as he answered "Hey Cas," he smiled, "yeah... The girl- wait -she what? You mean an actual..? Seriously? But.. really...? I'm not questioning your knowledge Cas, its just...okay. I'll tell Sammy." Dean covered the phone and turned to Sam, "Guess what? Turns out aliens are a thing now."


	3. Rose

"Where's my psychic paper?" He said, patting his hands down his suit, "Rose? Rose I can't find my psychic paper."

Rose looked hard at her phone and made a none commital shrug, trying to seem uninterested. "Did y'check your coat?"

"Yes I checked my... _Rose_." He said, the reality dawning on him. "Where is it?"

Rose wandered around to the other side of the console, biting her lip, still staring at her phone. "I dunno."

"Rose." He said sternly, his jaw tense.

Rose sighed and put down her phone, looking down at the console, "I have these friends in America- well they're not my friends, more like fictional characters that turned out to be real but-"

"You just handed it out? _My_ psychic paper?" The Doctor asks loudly stepping up close to Rose, "When? Why? And when we're you planning on getting it back?" He said, waving his arms around in wild gestures.

Sitting down on the jumpseat like a child that'd been naughty, Rose huffed another sigh and explained. "When you were sick with that fever from the fried banana in that junk food city and stayed in bed for weeks-"

"Yes I remember it was awful I can't believe a banana would be so cruel. But I don't see how you gave away my psychic paper."

"If you stop interrupting, I'll tell you." She said patiently. He relaxed, leaning back against the console but keeping his eyes on her. "Right. So while I was being your nurse," she said pointedly, "I read some of my books from home and I was reading one of my favourites from the Supernatural collection and I was wondering if there was anytruth in them. I mean we met ghosts with Dickens-"

"-gas based lifeforms-"

"And a werewolf-" she continued, ignoring him.

"-it wasn't an actual humanwolf hybrid-"

"And the Beast?" The Doctor was quiet. "So I googled them and found a site with omens and things, I thought it might be fun to investigate while you were asleep so I was looking for some in London and apparently the fan base are freaking out because something big is happening there. But the one girl, superfan999 posted a comment about meeting the main characters in the book. Obviously I would never think anything of it but, well, I was sat in a time and space travelling machine, if they existed, I could find them."

"The Tardis is not for you to play with. And you-" he said turning to face the console, "disappointed in you too. Letting Rose wander around 'investigating' by herself. You're supposed to look after her." He said quietly.

"Hey, I'm alright," Rose said, jumping up off the seat to look at the Doctors face. He smiled at her. "The Tardis did most of the work, when I asked her," she said, tracing her fingers over a couple switches and buttons, "I just went out and found them, pretty much as they're described in the books. Gave them the paper, explained the omens and left fast to check you were still okay."

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. "Next time, tell me when you start your own little adventures."

"Does this mean we're going to help?" Rose asked excitedly, grabbing the Doctors hand.

"How else do I get my psychic paper back." The Doctor muttered and quickly amended when he saw Roses face, "And rescue London." He grinned.


	4. Magic paper?

"Sherlock stop!" A flop of curly black hair rose from the pile of papers in the corner slowly. It was the first time he'd stopped moving and talking since they'd left Lestrades office. "Thank you. What- whats going on? What are you doing?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "Have you not been listening to a word I've been saying?"

Johns eyebrows lifted, and his voice Rose an octave "You have been mumbling to yourself at 50 miles an hour for the past-" he checked his watch "-40 minutes. 25 of which you spent chucking paper around the flat. Please tell me what's going on."

Sherlock disappeared back into the mass paper, his voice travelling across the room. "He gave me a number to call if I ever required him, I suppose he will want this," he said throwing the fake ID at John, he opened it curiously and frowned.

"It's not here Sherlock," he said showing him the blank paper. "Did you take them out?"

Sherlock sighed, exasperated, as more papers begin flying around the room, his arms moving in a blur. "It's blank right now. It appears however the person holding it wishes it to."

"It's magic paper?"

" _Psychic_ paper." He shouted.

John folded the 'psychic paper' and slipped it into his pocket. "And the two men you stole it from?"

"They certainly weren't smart enough to have met the Doctor and seem very random in the events that are transpiring, but I will find the connection soon. They could very well be the key to finding the companion and therefore him, if I never find IT. Damn this little piece of paper!" He said tearing up a letter and stuffing it into the bin. "Why must we keep everything John? Are you a hoarder? It's not an attractive quality Mr Watson."

Ignoring him, John asks, "Okay and this doctor that you've been muttering about?"

"Hes not A Doctor he's _THE_ Doctor." Sherlock shouts, his frustration coming out at John.

"That doesn't help." John replys calmly, "Who is he?"

"Time Lord of the planet Galifrey. Obsession with earth and its inhabitants, weirdly drawn to London. Probably due to a relationship or traumatic experience, he feels drawn here.." Sherlock pondered to himself, still scanning shreds of paper and discarding them.

".. The planet Galifrey?" John exhaled, incredulous. "Have you been using again?"

Sherlock's head popped up again, pausing in his search, piercing blue eyes stareing at John, "Do you really think I suffered delusions of alien planets when I was using?"

John dropped his head, feeling guilty that he suggested such a thing. "No, sorry, its just- you know how crazy it sounds right?"

"Insane, I'm aware." He muttered, returning to his search. "I was a treasured instrument at the use of UNIT in my early adulthood, due to the insistence of my brother," he explained quickly, seeming uninterested in his own story. "The Doctor is well known at the task force, almost like a sacred leader, and when he arrived everyone greeted him with cheers and salutes. We became good friends quickly, his mind worked much faster than most others and it was.. Less irritating, than the slow burn of regular minds." Sherlocks eyes darted to John and back to the task at hand. "We bonded. We saved a few lives, blah, blah.. He suggested I travel with him, but I rejected his proposal, knowing there were unsolved cases here in London that needed attending to. But he gave me a number to call. It came to be that I left UNIT, I aways felt their targets were not to my liking and my experience with the Doctor revealled their questionable morals."

"You never had a problem with questionable morals before." John pointed out.

"Nonetheless, after my time with the Doctor I decided to take my own route and well, not give two shits about Mycrofts opinion- Ah-ha!" Sherlock ginned, over a piece of old, yellowing paper. "Found it."

Sherlock leaped over into his armchair excitedly and thrust the paper at John.

"Well you dont need me anymore, it looks like you picked up a hot alien Doctor." He said laughing as he studied the yellowing paper with numbers scrawled in blue biro and a little circular doodle in the corner. "You've really got to stop trying to make me jealous.." John joked.

"I never said he was hot." Sherlock mumbled, cheeks burning.


End file.
